


Runner Runner, I Remember

by Bonbonbourbon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, experimental i guess, it's a bit weird
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 21:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13644669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonbonbourbon/pseuds/Bonbonbourbon
Summary: The town is weird and weirder for Fareeha than for Angela. She doesn't really remember, but that's not all that important. What's important is that she's taken on a case with Jesse and they've got to find the runner.





	Runner Runner, I Remember

**Author's Note:**

> (A bit of an experimental story, not my usual flare, but I really wanted to write this and I'm just posting it cuz why not.)

Rubber, brine and the faint smell of tobacco were her only companions on the long walk home, and like any normal soul, she could've done with better company. Still, Fareeha couldn’t find it in her heart to complain too much – the haul for the day made up plenty for the smell and the exhaustion that sat on her shoulders. Six colors of river fish and a bucket of Tarragon blue jewel crabs from the rock point by the ocean, a good catch indeed. Those famous diamondback crabs sold for a fine price at the market, enough that she was tempted to sell them all for a few extra shillings.

She didn’t though. She kept two at Jesse’s insistence, something or other about it being a nice treat for herself. Fareeha didn’t really get it. She didn’t care much about crabs. Their shells were hard to crack, all too often she nicked herself on the sharp edges of splintered shells and her fingers always felt too fat as they wriggled in the tiny openings she succeeded (“succeeded”) in making, blindly groping for a morsel of its firm white flesh. It simply wasn’t worth it to her, the reward for the amount of work. The reason why Fareeha far preferred the fireling crawfish swimming in droves at the lake, with flesh so sweet and tasted downright heavenly when smoked on a charcoal grill with a handful of cherry wood chips mixed in. However, with all that said, she remembered Angela had once told her in passing that she liked these blue jewel crabs, and that memory alone was enough for her to relent and keep a couple of them.

A smile cracked on Fareeha’s lips as she saw the beginnings of their home and sped up, thinking only of the fisherman's feast she would surprise Angela with tonight.

\------------------------

Fareeha dropped the bucket and tackle box on the old bench right in front of the shed roughly, ignoring the way it sloshed and the crabs inside rattled in the metal confines. Laying her fishing rod down next to the bench, she shoved her hands into her pockets in search for her keys, trying to fish them out with fervor. It was cold today and the sooner she put everything away, the sooner she could get out of these clothes and out of this weather. Fareeha swore as a particularly icy draft found its way in from the sleeves of her jacket, and her keys jangled as she flipped through them with dirty hands, cracked from hard labor and pruned from the day’s events. Finding the right one at last (it was always the last one she looked at somehow – every damn time) she jammed the key into the lock and turned. Two audible clicks, the sliding of a small chunk of metal, gave a push on the door handle and the door quickly gave way, offering so little resistance she almost stumbled right in.

By some stroke of good fortune, she didn’t fall -grabbing at the door frame probably helped too- and after righting herself, she shrugged off her oilskin jacket in one clean motion. Holding the jacket by the collar, she gave it a couple of hazardous shakes and threw it onto a free wall-bound hook. Excess saltwater still dripped from the jacket to the floor, but Fareeha let it go. She couldn’t very well be out here all day getting it completely dry. Besides, it would  _eventually_  dry. Grabbing her laid-down equipment, Fareeha went into the shed and beelined to the shelf, setting the fishing rod back on its holder along the way. She shoved the tackle box back in its place on the middle shelf, next to the jar of old fishing lures and coils of extra wire. She wiped at her sniffling nose again and cursed once more about how cold it was today.

"You're home early."

Fareeha's lips quirked. It’s funny, the temperature hasn’t risen the slightest, but she felt warmer already just from the silk in that tone. Now that was a voice she could recognize no matter what, whether on top of a cliff with screaming high winds or dropped at the center of a torrential storm at sea. She didn’t need to turn around to recognize it. It was a voice that called to her since she was old enough to start to remember and one she heard in often in the best of her dreams, accompanied by visions of the sky, a bright morning star, and a woman – a woman whose face she always forgot when she woke up and a deep ache would needle Fareeha’s young heart at her forgetfulness.

Her mother thought her imaginative, and she thought so too as she grew as tall as a stalk. She learned to ignore it, despite the burning in her back each time she woke up from these dreams that felt all too real, searing at her shoulder blades, pushing at the skin to come out, and the screams in her head to  _remember, remember, remember_ –

Remember  _what?_

She knew what at twenty-five. She was watering the flowers in the garden in the middle of April when her whole world changed. The voice came yet again, but this time it didn’t come to her in a dream.

(Not unless she was still dreaming)

_There you are._

She remembers freezing, a small moment where her joints all locked. With the slowest uplift of her head, she looked forwards and finally, _finally_ , had a face to put to the voice. Her back tingled, tears prickled at her eyes and her breath hitched with unexplained melancholy. The watering can slipped right out of her hands and the fresh water taken from the well spilled all over her boots. It soaked down to her socks, yet the cold wet barely phased her. The woman in her dreams – the woman _of_ her dreams. She was there and the only thing Fareeha remembers thinking was how could she _ever_  forget? A rather funny thought, considering that to this day, she still didn’t exactly remember  _what_.

_I’ve been looking for so long._

At that moment, against logic and everything she learned, Fareeha could only believe that the same was true for her, even if she had never realized it. More than romanticism or fantasy, it felt like destiny, it felt like fate, it felt like everything that was meant to be.

_Marry me._

And she did. The most spontaneous thing she had done in her life, agreeing before she even learned of her suitor's name, and she never looked back or ever once regret it.

Fareeha turned.

Angela was leaning on the frame of the old door, hair in slight disarray and untied from its usual ponytail. She seemed weary -bags under her eyes, skin looking tired- and Fareeha told her as much as she approached.

“Well a good hello to you too.” Angela said with a hint of sarcasm in an otherwise dreary tone. Fareeha raised a hand to brush Angela's cheek, thumb lifting to wipe the corner of her eye and the bags underneath. Angela leaned into the touch.

"Everything alright?" Fareeha murmured, not quite wanting to raise her voice.

Angela does not answer her and Fareeha doesn’t press; there was something about the moment that compelled her to keep the quiet. Like when Jesse would speak of his old mentor and swear he would see flickers of him in the smoke of dying embers and in the shadows of dark alleyways near the only pub worth going to around town. It was his story to tell and she never interrupted, not once, not even with her own tales of seeing a coiling shadow alive one time. A smoky husk with the height and gait and a distorted face of a man who looked eerily similar to the one in the picture Jesse had in his house. She drank two drinks that night, vowing to forget. The dead can’t walk –  _shouldn’t_  walk – and if they somehow do, they were better left alone. Besides, some secrets were not hers to seek out and unravel, to pinch and prod at.

When the time came for Jesse to deal with it, she would be there. How could she not?

A pull on her suspenders pulled her out of her thoughts. Deft hands tugged her close before they released to glide warm palms across the sides of her torso to wrap around her in a loose hold, fingers interlocking at the small of her back. She can feel the slight pressure of those folded hands through her white sweater and the crisscross of her thick suspenders. Angela leaned into Fareeha, nosing where her collarbone would be. If the fuzz of her white cardigan tickled at Angela’s nose, she does not show it. They stayed there, two bodies pressed together in a damp back shed on a gloomy Sunday.

Most days Fareeha would have resisted. She was dirty from the day’s events. However, she could smell remnants of soot and ash on Angela’s hair, along with the faint scent of animal musk and good old-fashioned dirt. Angela had been out in the world as well today and in as much need of a shower as she was. In this case, she believed an exception was alright and hugged the woman right back.

"You smell of the sea." Angela said without any particular sort of inflection as she broke the quiet. Her grip around her waist loosened and Fareeha instinctually followed suit, loosening her own. Angela took a step back and lifted her hand to pluck the Greek fisherman cap off Fareeha’s head, the other moving to smoothen her flattened hair back. Fareeha's eyes fluttered shut and she resisted the urge to groan at how soothing Angela’s fingers felt on her scalp, practically magic. God, she didn’t realize how much tension she had. “You told me you and Mccree went to try and reel in something from the fresh waters.”

“We did and we got some.” She mumbled, more focused on the fingers in her hair than in the conversation. “But nowhere enough, so we tried our luck with the sea.”

“And did you find it?” Angela was done fixing her hair and started to pull her out of the shed by the hand. She followed without resistance, only pausing to pick up the bucket she had left on the bench outside.

“No. Nothing swimming in the saltwater bit for some reason.” She showed the contents inside to Angela. “Best we could do was go to the rocks and dangled live bait into those crevices to catch some of these suckers. Sold most of’em in the market, before I came back. Kept four of’em and a river fish. Two for him and these two for you.”

“For us.” Angela corrected as she stared down into the bucket.

“Mm.” She shook the bucket, once. “What do you think?”

They were decently sized. Not her best catch by any means, but better than average, and they were blue jewel crabs – whatever that meant. She was still getting used to this strange town wedged between a lake and the sea.

Angela’s eyes crinkled. “I think we will be eating crab tonight.”

“And a river fish.” Fareeha reminded.

“And a river fish.” Angela repeated, with a gentle smile and an easy nod.

\----------------------------

Fareeha swung her legs as she sat on the counter, head leaning to rest on the side of one the hanging cupboards. They had a dinner of black pepper crabs and fish stew and it had been wonderful. So wonderful that she generously helped herself to Angela’s portion after the woman gave the okay, wolfing down her plate with vigor. Fareeha blinked and shook her head, pursing her lips as she tried to stay awake. She now believed that being such a glutton may have been an error in judgment on her part. It was only eight, far too early to be this drowsy and for the thought of retiring to bed be so enticing. She definitely ate a bit too much.

“Never had crab that way before.” She commented off-handedly as she slid off the counter to stand beside Angela, leaning on an arm as she watched the woman fix herself a hot toddy. Fareeha repeatedly tapped the floor with one of her feet in an effort to get rid herself of her sleepiness. “Where’d you learn a thing like that?”

“It’s Mei’s recipe. Since you liked that so much, I’ll ask her for more recipes next time I see her.”

Fareeha continued to tap the floor with her foot and hummed. Mei, huh? The woman from the East, she assumed, with the weird critter Fareeha never had seen before as a pet (smarter too than most companions Fareeha has come across). She was lively, bright, and though the woman has done her no wrong, something about her puts Fareeha on edge. Fareeha had the funniest feeling that Mei, as kind as she may be and as meek as she sometimes appeared, was not the type to be trifled with. Perhaps it was that weird niggling in the back of her mind that sprung with every new face she saw in these parts, or perhaps it was that the odd joke she made were chilling if taken the wrong way.

“Did you spend lots of time with her today?”

Angela shook her head. “Genji and Zenyatta.”

“Oh.” The men who were never without their masks. “Was it fun?”

Angela smiled. “It was good. Anyways, I heard tomorrow you’re going on a hunt?”

Fareeha did not miss that casual slide into a new direction in conversation. The way Angela was so brief when usually she explained things in length. She doesn’t press though, there are far too many things she still did not understand and Angela will undoubtedly tell her in her own time. If it is important for her to know, Angela will tell her and that time would soon come. Fareeha has already heard the whispers of bad things. She reveals none of her thoughts to Angela though, instead picking up her cup of tea with one hand, threaded her fingers with Angela’s with the other and guided her stressed wife back to their room, all the while talking of the new case she and Jesse picked up.

“It’s more of a chase than a case, really.”

They weren’t prowling for the target as much as trying to find out if ‘the runner’ really exists. It was a stupid name, ‘the runner’, a being that flits in and out in blue light and rumored to even go back in time. Whether it was true or whether it was fake, the hassle was all the same. If they weren’t real, this was a wild goose chase, and if they were real... Well, they were called ‘runner’, it was going to be annoying either way. Fareeha grumbled and slid further into the sheets. She noticed that Angela was staring into her cup of hot toddy and mistaking her reason for concern, Fareeha waved her hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about it – the most trouble I’ll get is probably aching feet.”

Fareeha's lopsided grin slipped as Angela failed to find the humor in the slight joke, gaze still on her drink as she swirled and took sips of it with that conflicted expression continually marring her features. When she did speak, it was almost a whisper.

“She’s only a little lost… Please don’t hurt her.”

Fareeha didn’t sit up, but she straightened, rolling to her side and propping herself with an elbow to better look at Angela.

“You know her?” She asked softly.

“I did.” Angela responded, equally as softly and took a sip of her hot toddy to hide her expression. Angela would do that often, being a surprisingly stubborn woman who did not like to reveal her own weaknesses. Kind and effervescent, a bleeding heart who wore her heart on her sleeve for everyone else, yet for her own problems, when she thought it affected no one but her, quite closed off under lock and key. Fareeha pursed her lips.

“Okay.” She reached out and squeezed Angela’s thigh reassuringly, before hoisting herself up higher by a push of her arm to press a kiss to her wife’s shoulder. “Okay. I promise nothing will happen to her. And don’t worry, our client only wants to see her… If she tries to do anything more, I will stop her.”

She was sure it wouldn't come to that and that the runner would be safe. The client didn't seem to be lying. Something about that woman and the light in those green eyes and the expressions that crossed her face, full of freckles, told Fareeha that.

“Thank you.” Angela said, smile returned. She placed her hot toddy down on the bedside table and looked up thoughtfully. “Go find the spider woman. She will be your best bet.”

Fareeha stayed silent, waiting for Angela to divulge further. There was no chance she was alluding to what Fareeha was thinking. Like she read her thoughts, Angela laughed lightly and continued on, saving Fareeha the embarrassment of having to actually ask.

“She is a spider woman in some ways, but she is also a literal spider.” Fareeha stared at her wide-eyed and Angela laughed again and nodded. “Yes, you heard me right. Well, half-woman, half-spider. If she is not at the castle ruins she will most likely be near the grotto. Find her. She can help.”

Angela spoke matter-of-factly, as succinct as can be and Fareeha was still rather shocked at the notion that a spider woman existed. She muttered under her breath. The things her wife knew. She did not expect Angela to hear and deliver yet another incredible truth that the existence of the spider woman was common knowledge among the people of this town. Fareeha shook her head and sat up further in bed, leaning her back on the headboard and wrapped an arm around Angela.

“Everyone in this town is weird.” She grumbled. “Why is everyone here so strange?”

Angela leaned in and kissed the side of her jaw. “Don’t be mean. You know them.”

“So they aren’t strange-ers?” Fareeha jested automatically and rightfully had her side pinched. She flinched, rather ticklish and grabbed at Angela’s and jutted her lips at the smug grin Angela smiled back. “Just because I greet them, doesn’t mean I know them. They’re still strangers to me. Stranger than normal strangers.”

Angela went quiet, the atmosphere changes and Fareeha cocks her head, wondering what she said wrong.

“You do know them.” Angela eventually said with a wry smile. “Or rather, you did.” She finished, and Fareeha sobered up.

_Oh._

The visions didn’t come as much as it did before, and when they did it was always centered on Angela or the bright blue sky. The occasional smell of smoke was the only other strong thing she could recall, and the reason why she didn’t fight it when she gravitated towards an alcoholic man with jingling boots – “spurs” he called them, always correcting her. She pulled Angela closer by the waist and leaned her head on hers, breathing deeply.

“I wished I remembered faster.” She confessed as she stared at the drywall. The weird stares she got would make more sense. She did always wonder why people often stared at her with probing eyes, even those folks that saw every day and could call by first name if she so wished.

“You don’t have too. I don’t mind if you never remembered at all…” Fareeha glanced at Angela and the woman stared back and Fareeha hated the creeping feeling of helplessness gurgling up her insides at seeing that bit of sadness in her eyes. She cannot help fix whatever was bothering her if she cannot remember. She didn’t know where to start. “Things weren’t always good.” Angela reached out and brushed the pad of her thumb on Fareeha’s forehead, just above where her temple would be.

Fareeha stayed silent for a moment, simply feeling her thumb strokes on her head. It always made Fareeha wonder, in her heart, never aloud, never asking (never wanting to ask only because she thinks it would make Angela sadder), if she somehow had died from a blow to this spot Angela caresses so tenderly whenever she was stressed about things about her.

“It doesn’t matter if it wasn’t good.” Fareeha pronounced in quiet tones. “I want to. For you.”

Angela smiled, in spite of herself Fareeha thinks, and tilted her head up to kiss her.

“You with me right now is more than enough.” She said earnestly. “Believe me.”

Fareeha smiled softly back.

“I do.”

And the same was true for her too.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone reads my other work that said this was going to be a oneshot, I lied. It's going to be a four-parter BUT it's going to take a backseat to my other fic which I have been neglecting for far too long.


End file.
